


Beaten

by Missesbean



Category: Olympics RPF, Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M, Phlochte - Freeform, character abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:58:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missesbean/pseuds/Missesbean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan is in a bad situation but not telling anyone, Michael takes it upon himself to figure it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> **Pairing:** Phlochte
> 
>  **Rating:** M for mature themes 
> 
>  **Author's Note:** This struck my fancy a while back. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** These are fictional events. I do not know or own the boys, I do however, own my ideas. 
> 
>  

It started in the locker room, one glumy, rainy day in April.  Ryan had been sure to be the last person to shower, the last person left, so he thought.  He could only use so much waterproof concealer and wear jammers instead of a speedo for so long before it was questioned as to why.  Sure, he was thankful he was up training with Bob for a while while Gregg was on vacay, but still, the excuse of being super cold in a speedo, only worked for so long.  And, even then, nobody was really buying it, well, at least, Michael wasn't buying it. Most of the others had just chalked up the weird behavior to the fact that it was Ryan, he did weird things, they let it roll.  

Except Michael, he didn't let it roll. Ever.  Something was wrong with Ryan and he was determined to figure out what it was.  The other day, Mike had been horsing around with Ryan and had moved to playfully smack Ryan's bicep. Instead of rolling with the 'punch,' Ryan had flinched and moved back instinctively, making sure the gentle blow was just that.  Mike had cast it off to maybe Ryan was sore from a workout, but, it never got better; he'd noticed Ryan was more withdrawn, quiet for himself and just, off.  

 

Michael had taken it upon himself to figure out what the hell was going on with Ryan.  He had waited until he was sure everyone else was gone, dawdling around on deck with Bob, making a stupid argument over something, just to make sure he was the only one left.  Taking his time, the swimmer made his way to the locker room, knowing Ryan would still be in there, probably changing by now into dry clothes.  

 

He had been expecting Ryan walking around half dressed, but what he hadn't expected was to see the huge dark marks on the tan boy's skin.  They were huge, purple marks that looked like they hurt.  What the fuck?  Michael leaned back against the wall, not sure of what to say, taking his time thinking, not even thinking about the fact that Ryan would probably notice him just standing there, staring.  

Ryan turned around to see Michael staring and he was instantly defensive and reaching for his clothes.   **"Dude, what the hell? Sneaking up on me?"** As quickly as he could, the older swimmer pulled on his jeans and a long sleeve tee, wanting to be covered and have those hideous bruises hidden.   Those, they were why he had come to Baltimore.  It had been a valid excuse to get away from Marcus and Gainesville, not to mention Gregg was on vacation.  

Michael was opening his mouth to speak, ready to ask Ryan what the hell, what was going on, but Ryan gave him a look, those eyes wordlessly begging Mike to not utter one word.  Ryan couldn't take it right now, he just, couldn't.  Nodding, Michael understood, Ryan wasn't ready to talk about this, he understood, but it didn't mean he was ready to accept the fact that someone was beating the shit out of his best friend.   **"Ryan, I-"**  he started, but was cut off by the curly haired boy.   **"Don't. Please."**   Mike wanted to push the issue, he did, so badly, but hearing the way Ryan was all but begging him to not say anything, the pain in his voice, the way his eyes were begging still, Mike couldn't make Ryan say anything.  Yet.  

For now, he would just nod and let it be a quiet topic.   **"Wanna get something to eat?"** He gave Ryan a hopeful glance, standing awkwardly in his speedo in the middle of the quiet room.  Ryan shrugged, sitting to put on his shoes.  

 

Michael would fix this. Somehow, he'd get the happy Florida swimmer back. 


	2. Beaten - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Michael Phelps / Ryan Lochte   
> **Rating:** R for Mature Themes    
> **Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my ideas. These  are all fictional events that did not happen.     
> **Author's Note:** So the timing is a bit off, I picture this back around, 07 ish.  But, my timeline is a bit skewed, so consider this all AU. 
> 
>   
> 

Days had gone by and Michael hadn't said another word about the marks and bruises on Ryan's body, not yet.  Today though, he was planning on saying something.  He could only sit around and know this and watch for so much longer.  Ryan had progressively been perking up as the week had gone by, but it was as if a sudden switch had been flipped this morning.  Ryan was retreating from the group again and fading back out of the fun Reezy into the scared little boy that Michael was starting to see more and more of.  Mike didn't like it.  This scared boy wasn't his best friend; his best friend was loud, crazy, wild, daring and a tough dude.  The Ryan in front of him was like nothing he had every seen before and he didn't like it at all. 

 

 

   


Since seeing the marks on Ryan's body, Michael had been thinking about it, having a hard time keeping it to himself.  How could Ryan let someone do that too him?  He knew that someone had to be beating the living shit out of him, but who?  His parents wouldn't do that, Michael was sure of that; they were too nice.  And, then, there was Ryan's boyfriend, well, friend, er, whatever the hell that Marcus guy was, but Mike  _knew_  him.  He was a good guy, worked just as hard at soccer as Ryan did at swimming, so there was no way it could be him, absolutely no way.   

 

 

 

 

The more Mike thought about the marks, the angrier he got with Ryan for not standing up for himself.  Now, Mike didn't know all of the story of course, so he was of course going to assume what he imagined it could be.  If and when he ever found out what really was going on, he most definitely would go batshit crazy on whomever had done this.  Ryan was special; nobody should be beating on someone like him.   The more Mike thought about Ryan, the more he realized he felt towards the other man and then he got worried.  Maybe he was making all of this worse just because he had this nagging need to try and protect the curly haired dork that he used too see,  _used too._ Michael wasn't entirely sure if he was comfortable accepting the fact that he had an attraction towards the other, so he buried that and convinced himself he was like a brother he'd never had.  Yea, that's why he cared, Ryan was like that older brother trying to get him in trouble and see how far he could push the limits.  If he just so happened to have an amazing smile, well, then so be it, and if that smile perhaps always melted its way entirely down into Mike's soul, well, then so be it too.  He wasn't attracted to Ryan in a non friend way.  No, not at all.  That wasn't how it was; he didn't like guys, at all.  He liked girls, and boobs.  Yup, he liked boobs.  He thought.  Well, maybe, if they weren't too big, because honestly, they were kind of scary, imagine getting buried between the globes and not being able to breathe, yikes.  Suffocation by breasts, now, that would be newsworthy. 

As Michael stood on the deck contemplating all of these thoughts, he hadn't realized Bob was telling him, no, screaming at him, to get in the water.  Everyone was staring as Michael gazed out towards the wall, not really paying attention to what he was doing.  It took Bob literally shoving Michael into the water before he snapped back to attention.  Why was he wet?  Snapping his eyes open, Mike looked up at Bob with an apologetic glance, then started on his drill, knowing he was going to be practicing much longer than usual. Him and his stupid wandering mind.   

 

 

All through his drills, all Michael could think about was counting his strokes and the bruises.  In fact, it was as if he wasn't even counting the strokes, but the bruises he had seen instead.  He couldn't shake the image from his mind; it was a scary thought, to imagine Happy, Sunny, Goofy Ryan being beat on.  In fact, it was a nauseating thought and Michael didn't like it at all.  He found himself wanting to vomit, begging Bob to let him out before he puked.  Of course, that didn't work, and so he continued on, squeezing his eyes shut instead and forcing his stomach to still itself.  Dogs.  Football. Girls. Winning.  Food. Nothing worked, he couldn't concentrate on anything but that look Ryan had given him.  Whoever was doing that, needed to be punished.     


The angry thoughts continued to swirl through Mike's mind the rest of his sets.  Finally, he drug himself out of the pool, wrapping a towel around his body as he made his way towards the locker room, but instead found himself being lured in the direction of Bob's office.  Grumbling, he followed his angry coach, flopping down in the chair across from Bob's when he got there.   

 

 

Oh good, a lecture regarding his performance, exactly what he wanted to deal with today.  Of course, Bob had lectured and lectured and lectured him.  He'd nodded, answered and went through all of the motions of having an agreeable session with his dinosaur of a coach.  It would get better, he just had to quit thinking about that tanned boy with all the bruises.  Dammit, there he was again, thinking about Ryan and his issues.

 

 

Something had to be done and he'd take care of it now.  Storming from Bob's office, he made his way into the locker room, looking for Ryan, but, to his surprise he wasn't anywhere to be found.  Making his way towards Lochte's locker, his jaw dropped when he saw all of the contents gone.  Seriously? He was going to just leave?  Michael shook his head angrily before getting himself all taken care of, then stormed home.  He'd call Ryan, that's what, call him and ask him where the hell he was.   

 

 

After thirteen unanswered calls, twelve unanswered text messages and three knocks on the door of Ry's room, Michael was starting to be a bit panicked.  He must have had an appointment or something, right?   

 

 

Surely.  


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Michael Phelps / Ryan Lochte   
>  **Rating:** R for mature themes   
>  **Disclaimer:** These are fictional events and I own nothing but my ideas. I do not know the characters IRL and these are just figments of my imagination happening.    
>  **Feedback?:** Yes please 
> 
>  
> 
>  

The next day at practice, Michael was shocked to learn Ryan had gone back to Florida.  He'd left Bob a quick message on his phone, briefly saying he was going back to Florida.  Bob had accepted it easily, knowing how Ryan could be, and brushed it off.  He was more than confused as to why Michael looked like death had warmed over at the realization that Ryan was gone gone.  What was even more confusing to Bob was when Michael kept blubbering on about 'not good' and 'bad bad bad' as well as a few 'goddamn it, should have said something.'  That's what got Michael back in Bob's office, with the threat of never leaving until he spilled the whole story.  


Of course, Mike couldn't just say anything about Ryan getting the shit beat out of him, that, just, he couldn't vocalize the ideas or words, it made it that much more real.  The fact that someone was beating on Ryan wasn't anything Michael wanted to admit.  Especially not now, since he was gone and probably getting beaten on more.  After assuring Bob there had just been a an argument between him and Ryan, he left the nat, quickly getting the hell out of that place.  He had to get on xbox live or something, he had to make sure Ryan was okay.  What if whomever was beating him, had tried to like, break him or something?  Michael didn't even know, he just rushed home, phoning Ryan multiple times more.  Michael was annoyed with Ryan's lack of communication; generally he would have sent a goofy message, explaining his leaving or joked about it.  But now, well, he wasn't even responding.  Ryan never ignored calls, he always called back, he always sent a reply message, even if it was just 'k.'  Something big was up, and whatever it was, it was wearing on Ryan, bad.  

 

  

Had he known, that each time he called, Ryan got smacked on more, he probably would have stopped, but, he didn't know, so he continued his excessive calling and texting.  Michael was beside himself, he couldn't believe the other guy would just leave!  Did he think he could just go away and Mike wouldn't ask him questions? Because, if so, that was the dumbest idea Ryan had in a while and Mike was more than likely to tell him about it. If he could get him to answer, of course. 

 

\- - - 

Days went by of the same routine, Michael calling, texting, emailing, IMing, and still, Ryan not answering.  When Michael's phone finally buzzed, he just about fell over at the sheer shock.  The message he read though, it hurt, it hurt all the way down in his toes.  He had to read it several times through to make sure he got the right message out of it, and each time he read it, the hurt, anger, confusion, anxiety, and worry, all sunk in hundreds of times more.   _"Goodbye."_  


 

 Michael paced around in his bedroom as he looked over his phone screen again, willing for more explanation, another message, a phone call, something.  Whatever was going on, it wasn't good.  He had to somehow figure this out, but he didn't even know who to talk to, or what to say, or, anything.  Maybe he should call Ryan's house line? He had one of those, right? Michael didn't even know; instantly he felt like a bad friend for not even knowing if Reezy had a landline, that seemed like something he should know.  Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he put his hands in his head, thinking about that message, his body tensing as he realized all of the meanings that could be behind that one word.  

Goodbye? What did Ryan mean by goodbye?  Goodbye for good? for now? to him only? Michael didn't think Ryan would ever say anything like that and mean permanently.   He was too happy and, wait, Michael thought about the Ryan he'd been watching for the past few weeks.  He wasn't happy, he wasn't boppy, he wasn't Ryan.  He was a shell of what used to be Ryan. 

 

Holy Fuck.  


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Phlochte  
>  **Rating:** R for Mature Dark Theme  
>  **Disclaimer:** This is purely fiction. None of these events happened. I do not own or know the boys. These are just random fictitious ideas.  Once again.   **This is just fiction.**  
>  **Author's Note:** It's short,I  apologize. 
> 
>  
> 
>  

Michael had decided he had no choice, he had to call Ryan's Mom; she was a nice lady, always had been friendly to Michael when he had seen her around at events.  Yea, maybe she could give him some insight as to what was going on, right?  He dialed the number, anxiously tapping his foot when there was no answer at the Lochte House.  Maybe they were gone, right? Yea, maybe.  Looking down at his watch he realized they were all probably out at practice or something like that, a family affair, he got that.  He was just being an overreacting person.    


Michael tried to push it off and went to get ready for his afternoon practice with Bob.  Michael tended to overreact and worry, especially when it came to Ryan, so he tried to just remind himself that this was just Ryan being Ryan.  In fact, he was probably telling Michael he needed to quit calling him like there was no tomorrow.  Like, hey, dude, quit it man, I see you.  At least he'd gotten a response, right?  Right.  He had himself convinced that everything was okay and he was just overreacting as he dug through the drawer for a new pair of socks.  Thinking about food instead.  He was just, overreacting, that's all.  

  He was about to walk out the door when his phone rang, looking at the number, he picked up quickly, still making his way out to the car.  His mother's greeting was more sober than usual, not as perky.   _"How are you doing, Michael? Are you holding up okay?"_   Mike had no clue as to what his mother was speaking about, so he answered yes, a curious tone in his voice as he tucked the phone against his shoulder, driving towards the pool.  Debbie realized her son had no idea of the worldly news, so continued to talk to Michael for a few minutes as if she was just checking up on him; she let him go, knowing he'd see Bob in a bit.  Maybe that would be the best way anyways.  

 

\- - - 

  


Michael was confused when Bob met him at the entrance of the pool, then motioned for him to go into his office first.  They never sat down first, what was this?  Michael followed behind Bob confused, curious as to why everyone looked so somber this afternoon.  Bob waited for Michael to get in, then shut the door, sitting down on the sofa across from Michael.  Now, this was really weird.  Looking at Bob with confused eyes, Michael opened his mouth, the first comment coming to his mind releasing, causing Bob to flinch.   **"Who died?"**  


  


Frowning, Bob looked down at Michael, shaking his head, puffing his cheeks before opening his own mouth to speak.  It was at that moment that Michael made the connection to his previous thoughts and now. Holy fuck.  Ryan.  

 

**"Michael, Loch-, erm. Ryan tried to kill himself."**   


 

Michael's whole world tipped on end at that moment.  His best friend.  He was supposed to be there for Ryan, help him through shit, make him laugh.  He was his best fucking friend and this was happening?  He blinked furiously, trying to control everything that was going on as Bob continued to speak about the attempt, how it failed (thank god).  Before Michael knew what he was doing, he was pushing Bob away, out the door and at the airport, no packed bags, nothing.  He just, was at the airport, getting on the next flight to Florida.  The woman behind the counter gave him a strange look when he didn't have a bag to check, nothing but the clothes on his back.  

  


Within a few hours, he was on a jet plane to Gainesville, going to see Ryan.  He had to be okay, he had to see him, had to make sure that nobody would hurt Ryan again.  Whoever was hurting him and had driven him to  _this_  was going to pay, Michael was going to make sure of it, come hell or high water, they would pay.  The whole flight, he was anxious, nervous, nauseated, and scared.  Ryan had to be okay, he just had to be.  Michael couldn't be without his Reezy, he couldn't.

  
   



	5. Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but my ideas, no infringement intended. Mature, dark theme.

Michael had gotten on his flight, shocked still, sad, upset, angry and sick to his stomach. He felt responsible. He should have said something to somebody or just chased after Ryan as soon as he'd left. But no, he'd let Ryan go, just texted him and called, never went down there to make sure everything was okay. Then, there was that text message from Ryan saying goodbye. He should have known, he should have. His thoughts were drowning out all of the other noises and events going on in the plane as they took off, Michael's eyes shut, head back as he tried to keep from puking at the thought of Ryan trying to off himself. Mike didn't know how he had tried to do this, but knowing Ryan, Michael was scared as to what it would have been. He was pretty creative, too creative for Michael to even want to think about. Instead of thinking about how, Mike tried to busy himself with people watching. That had been an even worse idea; sitting in the row ahead and across from him were two guys sharing a pair of earbuds, heads tilted together, matching smiles on their faces. Mike's heart skipped a few beats at their little scene, knowing him and Ryan used to be like that. Before the whole ... Whatever was going on with him lately. Mike pushed back any thoughts he'd had about what that could have meant. He didn't have feelings for Ry; he was just his best friend. There was nothing more going on between them. He reminded himself that he liked girls, not Ryan. Right. Okay. Turning his gaze away from the friends in front of him and looked towards the people who were sitting across from him. 

A couple sat across from him, engrossed in each other, sweet gestures, touches and a stolen kiss or two. That feeling crept back into his chest as he thought about Ryan once more. No, no NO, he didn't have those feelings. None, not at all. Shaking his head, Michael flopped back in his seat, thankful that he was on the aisle and that the people beside him were just an old couple. Oh Jesus, they were cute too, with their, hands clasped together, eyes lit up at each other, and him patting her cheek affectionately. It was all too much for Michael, he couldn't take it. 

Never in his life had Michael been more anxious to see Ryan. He had too, right now. He was about to go crazy through the flight, his leg shaking and jerking around, his eyes welling up with tears as he sat on the flight. What if Ryan wasn't really okay like they said he was? What if he was dead and they just didn't want to tell him that? What if he hated Michael? What if this was all his fault? The man's stomach flipping about even more as he went through all of the what if's; this was probably the most nauseatingly horrible feeling he had ever experienced. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers Michael tried to concentrate on something not so sad, then noticed the elder lady beside him looked over at him with a warm, kind smile. He tried to return her smile, but it didn't really work - he was quite upset still, as one would assume he'd be. 

 

The woman had put her hand on his gently, tentatively as if she was afraid he'd break from her touch. **"Dearie, are you okay?"** She cast him a worried glance as she situated in her seat to look at him for a moment. Michael jumped from her touch, eyes darting towards her as he tried to respond, words shaky as he spoke. **"F-ine, I'm f-fine."** Right, he wasn't fine and it was obvious to everyone around. His color was off; his gestures were jumpy, eyes darting around like a crazy person, knee still hopping about as he tried to calm himself down. This was just a horrible situation. Clucking her tongue at him, the elderly woman shook her head before once speaking. **"You must really care about someone. . ."** She shook her head, knowing all of those signs from her own children. Somebody was in trouble and he was upset, she could tell all of this just from looking at him. Michael's eyes went wide at her statement, not sure of what to make of it. He was at that point where he really just wanted to cry, but knew that wasn't at all acceptable right now. The older woman gave him another small smile, hand patting on his leg gently as she settled back into her seat. It was obvious to her he was upset and deeply cared about someone or something. She'd expected him to just stare straight ahead and ignore her; what she hadn't expected was for the tall boy beside her to launch into a story about his friend. 

Listening to Michael recount Ryan's story, the woman pulled her Kleenex out at all the right moments for him, just listening as Michael essentially poured his heart out over his friend. This boy beside her reminded her so much of her own grandson that she was having a hard time not calling him Joe and telling him to go find his Calvin. She didn't know if he was talking about a Calvin or a Katharine though, so she kept her mouth shut, comforting him on several occasion with a grandmotherly pat. 

They were about to land when Michael realized he'd told this older woman the entire story and flushed. She pat him once more on the cheek before telling him to go find his love. It was at that moment, that Michael realized exactly what Ryan meant to him. Ryan was the one he was in love with, the one he wanted to spend forever with and the one he wanted to curl up next to and watch those tacky movies. When something good happened, he wanted to call Ryan and tell him all of the great parts about his day and when something bad happened, he wanted to hear Ryan's stupid jokes and ideas to make him feel better. Essentially, he just wanted Ryan. But now, he had lost him, entirely. 

******

Rushing through the airport, he got a cab first thing, checking his blackberry for the address bob had emailed him. After giving directions, Michael sat back against the seat, planning the little speech he needed to tell Ryan. The cab ride had gone too quickly though, leaving Michael with, "Ryan, I'm sorry-" he was going to have to figure out more as he went. This was going to be one of those situations where Michael was going to wing it and probably sound like a dumbass, but he didn't even care. He cared about Ryan, that was all that mattered. 

He found himself standing outside of Ryan's room within a short few moments, panic in his eyes. Ryan's mom had known he was coming, glad to hear maybe someone could perk up her son, even if for only a few minutes. She found Michael leaning against the wall outside Ryan's room, hood up, face hidden by his hands as he stood there very still. Clearing her throat first, Ike put a hand on Michael's arm, looking up at the brown eyed boy. **"Uhm, Michael. . "** He looked over at her with big eyes, tears already forming in the corners as he looked at her. The thoughts rolling through his mind were that of failure, regret and complete distress. His best friend was lying in a hospital bed just a few feet away, after trying to kill himself. This was all too much; Mike bit back his tears and gave Ike a smile then a small hug, trying to be a support instead of a sobbing boy. Ike whispered in his ear, making Michael bite back some more sobbing. Apparently Ryan had been asking for him since the accident, something his boyfriend didn't appreciate, and his Mother was tired of hearing. He needed to tell Mike sorry, he kept saying, needed to let him know he was okay. 

After his moment of gathering himself, Ike was all but shoving him into Ryan's room, shutting the door behind him. He stumbled into the brightly white room, eyes focused on his shoes. He could hear the beeps of machines, and the television set on cartoons. Michael couldn't look up though, he couldn't look at Ryan, he just, couldn't. So, he stayed just like he was, eyes on the floor. 

Of course, Ryan wasn't quiet. **"Dude! Come here and watch cartoons! SpongeBob is on!"** Michael had nothing to say, so he kept staring at the floor. It was all he could do. Stare.


	6. Part Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter of Beaten series.   
> Once again, I own nothing but my ideas, no infringement intended. Dark theme.

Ryan was having none of this Michael staring at his feet thing, so he tossed a fruit loop at the tall swimmer’s head, looking up at him like he was crazy.   **“Mike. . . hello? Earth to Mike?”** Ryan kept perkily trying to get Mike’s attention, but all Michael could do was look at the floor.  In all actuality, Michael wasn’t looking at Ryan because he was afraid.  He was afraid of how he would react once he actually saw him, how hard he would cry, how badly he’d want to steal him away and just make sure nobody ever hurt him again.  He knew he couldn’t do this though; it wasn’t something he could get by with, stealing Ryan, that is. 

Michael was honestly at a loss of what to say.  Ryan was sitting there acting like there was nothing wrong, that he just was hanging out in his bedroom watching Saturday morning cartoons.  Didn’t he realize what was going on? That he had tried to kill himself? Or had he forgotten?  Michael was in mid thought when another fruit loop hit him in the cheek; it was at that moment, that Michael looked up at Ryan with red, puffy eyes.  It was apparent he’d been crying and upset.  **“Ryan. . . what were you thinking? This is. . . is crazy. . .”**  Ryan’s smile slowly fell as he looked at Michael.  Fuck. 

** “Mike, it’s no big deal. . . quit frowning. . .” **  He tried to perk up the situation, but Michael exploded as soon as Ryan said it was no big deal.   **“What? No big deal? No big deal, Ryan?  I find you covered in bruises, you say it’s no big deal, you run away, it’s no big deal, then you send me a text message saying goodbye!  I go to practice and everyone is looking at me like I have a disease and then Bob tells me my, my best friend tried to kill himself?  No big deal, Ryan? What part of that is no big deal?  I’m sorry I’m not laughing here! You’re in a fucking hospital bed, where the doctors and nurses are keeping you on a close watch, because you tried to end your LIFE, Ryan! This IS a fucking big DEAL!”**   He stormed around Ryan’s room, trying to keep from smacking the boy silly.  What was he thinking? 

Ryan spoke up, looking at Mike with a stupid expression.   **“Dude. . . you have no right to say one fucking word. .  do you not think I know? I _was_  the one who drove into the trees. . .”**  Had Michael forgotten that detail? He wasn’t sure, but judging by the way Michael whipped around so suddenly, almost losing his balance, Ryan was guessing Mike had no idea.   **‘You did, what, Ryan?!”** Mike’s eyes were huge at the thought of Ryan driving into a tree, why hadn’t anyone told him this? How was he so fine looking as he was right now? He didn’t have any marks on him, Mike had assumed it had been pills or something, not that! 

Sighing, Ryan nodded, looking up with a tired look.   **“I got drunk and drove into the trees. . . seemed like the answer at the time.  I can’t take it anymore, man.”** His voice grew more and more quiet as he spoke, thinking back to the great idea he’d had of driving into the tree.  He’d drank himself silly, then had decided he was done.  There’d be no more getting hit, no more having to go to practice, no more anything.  It’d be nice to just let go and relax, so he had decided the only way to do that was to drive into the trees and end it all right there. 

While he had been thinking about all of this, Michael had sat down in the chair beside his bed, head resting in his hands.  Ryan could tell he was trying to process it all as he kept quiet, focusing on his breathing and not yelling at Ryan.  Now would not be the time to do any hitting of any sort, so he refrained, knowing Ryan was obviously not in the best mental capacities right now.  He huffed in his breath as he tried to take all of Ryan’s words in; it was hard to even imagine Ryan being so upset that he thought the answer was death.  Mike sniffed, rubbed at his eyes, trying to figure out all of this.  As soon as he was about to say something else, Ryan felt the need to just explode and be a ball of emotion, leaving Mike breathless as Ryan just, fell apart. 

** “Man, it hurts you know?  Just, like, having someone tell you they love you . . . and then, slapping you around and, and, telling you that you’re stupid and you don’t know and that you just need to grow the fuck up. . .” **  he sighed, tears growing in his eyes as he thought about the last conversation he’d had with Marcus before the accident.  Mike had finally looked up at Ryan when he’d started speaking, his hand finding the older man’s instinctively.  Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to cry in front of his best friend, but was soon finding it to be inevitable.   **“I can’t go back, Mike, I can’t.  If I go back to that house, he’ll be there and, he’ll just, do it again and again and, I’m scared, Mike, I’m scared!”**  Through his moments of speaking, Ryan’s voice grew louder and louder with more fear.  Michael shook his head, anger boiling inside of him.  Before he knew what he was doing, he had pulled Ryan into him, holding him to his strong chest, cradling his body against his, tears rolling down his cheeks.   **“No, you’re not going back, Ry.  Never.”**   Ryan’s sobs were shaking his body against Michael’s, the anger boiling up inside of him as well as he balled his fists in Michael’s shirt, his emotions having broken. 

Michael didn’t move, just stayed half kneeling half standing by Ryan’s beside, holding the sobbing man towards him, one hand holding him tightly against him, while the other rubbed through his curls in a reassuring manner.  He wasn’t going to let anyone do anything to Ryan ever again, no way. 

Through the doorway, Ike spotted her son, sobbing in Michael’s arms, the both of them rocking back and forth, crying, Michael reassuring Ryan and ‘shh’ing him.  The doctor was about to enter the room, but she put her hand out, stopping him, not wanting their moment to be ruined.  Ike didn’t know everything that was going on in Ryan’s life, but she knew that he needed this moment more than anything else right now and she wasn’t going to let a doctor that would yell at her son ruin the moment.   


End file.
